Those Who Smiled, and Eleven Other Stories

In Short

This collection presents a series of vignettes that explore human character under duress. Whether set in the shadow of the Great War, on the decks of brutal merchant ships, or within the tense social strata of Paris, the stories examine how individuals confront cruelty, loss, and moral ambiguity. The author’s writing has endured because he possessed a rare, unsentimental eye for the way men and women maintain their dignity—or lose it entirely—when faced with forces far larger than themselves. It is a stark, observant, and deeply compassionate work of fiction.

The Story

The collection opens in a North Italian orchard where a German captain, driven by a violent and overcharged personality, attempts to assert his will over his subordinates. His presence hangs over the villa like a physical weight, culminating in a bitter, claustrophobic confrontation with a lieutenant over a prisoner’s suicide. This theme of conflict—the struggle between the brute and the man of conscience—recurs throughout the narrative.

In the stories of the sea, we encounter the grueling life of the Etna, a ship notorious for its brutality. Here, men like Goodwin are pushed to the brink by the harshness of their environment and the rigid expectations of their peers. One seaman, derided as "the Dago," struggles with the loss of his sanity, clinging to a dream of a peaceful port that he knows, deep down, is a fiction. When the protagonist, Dan, ultimately confronts a tormentor, he does so with a cold, righteous efficiency that leaves little room for mercy. The sea does not soften these men; it strips them down to their core drives—anger, survival, and a quiet, aching loneliness.

As the scope shifts to land, the tone turns toward the eerie and the intimate. In the suburban English countryside, a family’s search for a missing child, Joan, becomes a study in grief and the helplessness of those left behind. The villagers and authorities search with a polite, detached efficiency that feels like a mockery to the mother’s desperate need. The child’s disappearance is treated as a mystery of the landscape itself, connected to a strange "wood-lady" that haunts the daughter’s perception.

The latter half of the book moves to the continental stage, where spies, arms dealers, and the displaced navigate the fallout of international tension. We meet Herr Haase, a man whose lack of imagination makes him an ideal instrument for a war machine, and the Prince de Monpavon, a figure of aristocratic coldness who plays for high stakes with a casual, terrifying indifference. The stories often conclude not with grand resolutions, but with moments of clarity. When an impoverished woman in Paris seeks work, she is met with a polite, immovable wall of bureaucratic indifference. When an Armenian peddler is treated as a carrier of disease rather than a man, the cruelty is systemic and casual. The arc of the book concludes with the Prince, an aging, enigmatic gambler, who manages to walk away from a four-hundred-thousand-franc debt by gambling on the unknown, leaving his peers in a state of perpetual, bewildered suspense.

How It Unfolds

The command of the brute Two officers take control of an Italian villa, where the German captain’s violent temper immediately poisons the atmosphere. This sets the stage for a series of power struggles between the authoritative and the oppressed.

The crucible of the sea Onboard the merchant ship Etna, sailors suffer under a regime of systemic cruelty. These chapters focus on how men maintain their sanity and sense of self when their environment is designed to break them.

The search for the lost In an English village, the disappearance of a child forces the community to confront the limitations of their empathy and order. The narrative emphasizes the disconnect between the searching authorities and the emotional devastation of the mother.

The machinery of espionage The focus shifts to international agents and officials, highlighting the cold, bureaucratic nature of wartime aggression. These stories illustrate how individuals act as cogs in a larger, often destructive, political engine.

The final gamble The collection closes with the Prince de Monpavon, whose life is defined by high-stakes play and inscrutable motives. His final act of maneuvering at the card table serves as a final, quiet assertion of personal power over fate.

The People

Captain Hahn is the book’s most vivid antagonist, a man whose "incarnate ejaculation" of anger defines the misery of those around him. He stands in stark contrast to his silent, eclipsed lieutenant, Jovannic, who must navigate the captain’s volatility. At sea, we find Goodwin, a man driven by a singular, drug-like need to find a lost associate, and Dan, a stoic, efficient seaman whose reputation for "uprightness" allows him to dish out violence without consequence.

In the domestic tales, the unnamed Mother is a figure of raw, agonizing grief, while her daughter, Joyce, observes the world through a lens of childhood confusion and haunting visions. Miss Pilgrim, a woman working in a consular office, represents the quiet, often unappreciated labor of those who witness the suffering of refugees and peddlers, yet she remains bounded by the cold rules of her station. Finally, the Prince de Monpavon acts as the ultimate enigma; he is a man of "uncanny fashion," whose waxen, immobile face masks a mind that treats the lives of others and his own fortune as mere counters in a game he refuses to lose.

In Its Own Voice

"He felt himself alone with her in a hag-ridden land where all men were murderers or murdered; and she would have none of him."

The lieutenant reflects on his isolation amidst the horrors of the war-torn landscape.

"A man henceforth to be counted sane, since he knew life as bare of beauty, sordid and difficult."

Dan observes the transformation of the Dago after the latter accepts the harsh reality of his situation.

"The world, after all, was wider than the decks of the Etna; and in it, an item in its wonder and complexity, there lived and smiled the girl."

Goodwin finds a glimmer of hope after deserting his ship, signaling a fragile shift in his perspective.

What It's Really About

The central concern of these stories is the persistence of the individual soul within a world that is frequently indifferent, if not outright hostile. The author explores how trauma—whether from war, poverty, or the crushing routine of manual labor—alters one's perception of reality. He asks if it is more "sane" to cling to beautiful delusions or to accept the "sordid and difficult" nature of life. There is a recurring tension between the chaotic, violent impulses of men and the rigid, cold structures of authority. The book suggests that while we cannot control the hand we are dealt by fate, we define ourselves by the final card we choose to hold—or hide.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the understated, observational style of early 20th-century literature will find much to admire here. These are stories that reward patience; the author does not rush toward catharsis, preferring instead to let the weight of a situation settle into the reader's consciousness. If you enjoy the works of Joseph Conrad or the tight, character-driven narratives of the era’s best short-story writers, this collection will feel familiar yet startlingly fresh in its cynicism.

However, a reader should be prepared for the period attitudes embedded in the text. The dialogue, particularly regarding the "Dago" or the treatment of colonial subjects, reflects the prejudices of the 1920s. These are not ignored, but rather presented as part of the environment the author describes, sometimes with a critical eye, sometimes with the casual indifference of the time. The prose itself is precise and evocative, often using the scenery—the "tiger-striped" grass or the "blinding silver" of a lake—to reflect the internal state of the characters. It is a haunting, often somber read that refuses to offer easy comfort, making it a powerful choice for those who prefer literature that challenges the reader to look squarely at the darkness, just to see what survives on the other side.